Don't You Test Me
by BulletBlaze
Summary: Stiles is a spitfire omega who doesn't appreciate being talked down to. Derek is very turned on.


**The teen+ rating is for the language at the beginning.**

 **Title comes from 'Not Today' by twenty one pilots**

 **Enjoy!**

The bar Erica and Boyd had dragged Derek to for a night out had always boasted a peaceful environment and no discrimination rules that had yet to be broken. It was a calm space to relax, have a few drinks, and meet new people without having to worry about belittlement or judgment of any kind.

Figures, the one time Derek goes is the first time their streak of peaceful nights dies a loud, angry death.

"Sir, please calm down, we are handling the situation."

"No, fuck that! This smelly, pompous prick has it coming! I don't give a flying shit what kind of peaceful agreement you wanna try to come to, I'm not letting some fuckwit wanker talk to me like that and get away with it!"

"We're not going to let him get away with it, sir, I can assure you-"

"Yeah, I know what you're gonna do, you're gonna kick him out and be down with it. Well, I'm not letting him go so easily."

"Sir, how about we get you back to your friends, all rounds on the house, and we'll get him out of here."

Derek watched the exchange like it was a tennis match, as was everyone else in the bar. The manager was looking worried and flustered, trying to keep the enraged man from attacking the douche.

He wasn't doing a very good job. The guy was a spitfire, hurling curses and every insult under the sun at the frat guy standing smugly behind the manager.

"That's right," started frat douche. "Be a good little omega and go back to your alpha like the cocksucking bitch you are."

A hush fell over the bar, quieting any murmuring gossip still taking place.

The spitfire looked like he was on, well, _fire._ Flames danced in his eyes and the low growl that crackled from his throat sounded like splintering firewood, but felt like a firework just before it exploded.

And explode he did.

The guy surged forward, shoving past the manager and got right in frat douche's face.

"Do something. If I'm such a weak little omega bitch, you should have no problem teaching me a lesson, huh? Unless you're too scared. Is the big bad alpha scared of the little omega?"

His words seemed to have the desired effect, because the next moment the alpha was swinging a fist at him. The punch landed on his cheek, but the guy's head moved voluntarily to the side with the force, and he didn't stumble. Not even a little.

As spitfire looked slowly looked back at frat douche, Derek could see an evil smirk crawl onto his face.

"Looks like I'm getting attacked," he announced. "And, more so, seems like a hate crime to me. I'm sure there are plenty of people in here who can testify that you just attacked me. Outta put you away for a few weeks at least. Unless I know some people down at the sheriff's station who can pull some strings and accidentally keep you a bit longer, and I just might."

The douche immediately realized what had just happened, and his eyes were alight with fury.

He moved to grab spitfire, hissing, "You little shit-"

Spitfire, with seemingly no effort, twisted the guy's arm behind his back, spinning him around and keeping him pinned. When douche's other arm came back to grab at his holder's face, neck, arm, anything he could reach, spitfire released the arm pinned at the guy's back and gripped the other one instead. He spun around him, got a good hold on the jacket, and flipped the guy over his shoulder. As frat douche hit the floor with a loud _thud,_ spitfire yanked on the arm still in his hold.

There was a sickening popping sound as the man's arm was pulled from its socket.

Even as he was shouting in pain and writhing on the ground, the alpha kicked out at the other man, earning him a grunt of pain as his heel met with a shin.

His satisfaction didn't last long, however, because the next moment he was pulled back to his feet and tugged into a headlock.

Spitfire then dug his thumbs into frat guy's neck, and after a few moments he passed out. Spitfire let him collapse back to the floor.

It all happened within the span of about twenty seconds and Derek was left reeling.

A moment of silence passed and everything was still. No one moved to help the douche or grab the spitfire, instead watching the man breathe heavily. Whether it was from the exertion or the lingering anger, Derek wasn't sure, but he didn't care.

He had never been so attracted to someone in his entire life.

Spitfire glanced around the bar, eyes eventually landing on Derek. He sent him a challenging look, obviously daring him to do something.

Yeah, Derek was definitely not going to do anything. Except maybe stare a little longer.

"I think I'll be leaving now, if you don't mind," spitfire said to the shell shocked manager. "Just call the station and ask for the sheriff, he'll take care of all this, don't worry."

And with that, he was gone.

Leaving Derek a little confused and a lot aroused.  
_

Derek didn't see spitfire again for another two weeks, but by then he had learned that his name was Stiles and that he didn't take lightly to being talked down to.

He was at the store with Erica, looking for some movie she was dying to have, when the girl's eyes got wide and she hit Derek in the arm, spinning him around.

"Derek, look, it's the guy from the bar that you have the hots for!"

And sure enough, down the aisle, there he was, standing with an older man wearing a sheriff's jacket.

Both of them stating right at him.

Derek turned on Erica with a glare. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" he hissed. "You couldn't have yelled that any louder?!"

She looked at him apologetically before her eyes were once again widening, looking over Derek's shoulder. "Um, Der?" she said timidly, nodding behind him.

Already knowing what, or rather _who,_ was going to be there, Derek turned around and came face-to-face with Stiles and the sheriff.

But before Stiles or Derek could say anything, the older man asked, "So, you were there that night? At the bar?"

Clearing his throat, Derek dutifully replied, "Yes, sir, I was."

"And you saw what happened?" he continued.

"Yes, sir, I did."

"So can you please tell my son that he went a bit overboard?"

"Yes, sir, I- wait, what?"

Huffing out an irritated breath, Stiles explained, "Dad thinks I over reacted with the whole arm thing and the unconscious thing. But I believe I was perfectly within my rights. He did attack me first, after all."

The sheriff scoffed, "I think we both know you provoked him. Don't act like you were the perfect little victim here."

"Oh, so you think I should've just let him step all over me?" Stiles exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Of course not, Stiles! But I taught you better than that! You made this messier than it had to be; you know how to get out of these situations with much less than a goddamn flip!"

"Technically I didn't get out of it with the flip, I got out of it with the carotid artery."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," the sheriff muttered, closing his eyes and lifting his face upwards.

Stiles met Derek's gaze and winked, smirking the whole time.

Derek felt his cheeks grow warm under Stiles' mischievous eyes, but in an oddly pleasant way. He smiled back, and Stiles' eyes brightened, along with the red in his own cheeks.

Interesting.

Erica was looking between them suspiciously, taking in their matching smiles and blushes, and finally stepping by the both of them.

"So, Sheriff! How did things turn out with that asshole, anyway?" she asked, leading the perplexed man back down the aisle with a firm hand on his shoulder.

After they turned the corner and we're out of view, Stiles turned back to Derek.

"So," he began, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I hear you have the hots for me."

 _Fuck._ Derek covered his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. If that makes you uncomfortable or something-"

"You wanna know why I got into it with that guy?" Stiles interrupted.

Hesitantly, Derek prompted, "Why?"

"Because I wasn't watching where I was going and walked into him. I wasn't watching where I was going because there was this gorgeous guy on the other side of the bar, laughing at something his friends said, and I was rushing to go see if he'd let me buy him a drink."

Derek gaped at him, his brain not quite computing with the new information.

"So," Stiles hopefully continued, "Would you? Let me buy you a drink?"

Finally catching up, Derek nodded enthusiastically, not able to hold back his bashful grin.

When Erica and the sheriff eventually made their way back to Stiles and Derek, they were too busy putting their numbers into each other's phones to notice.

And so they didn't notice Erica holding her hand out for a fist bump, which the sheriff gladly gave.

"Told you they wouldn't be able to resist," whispered Erica.

"Yeah yeah," replied the sheriff. "I have to say, miss Erica, it has been a pleasure meeting you."

"Right back at you, Sheriff." Nodding towards the two smiling boy's, she added, "I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of each other in the future."

And the boy's remained oblivious, lost in their new world together already.


End file.
